


Warmth (of Your Hands)

by The_Black_Cat



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Menstruation, OverWitch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26492479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Black_Cat/pseuds/The_Black_Cat
Summary: When Mel is having one of the worst days she remembers having, she finds comfort with the most unlikely of people.Warning: this story contains descriptions of menstruation and cramps. While not too graphic, they are a big part of the story, so if that makes you uncomfortable, I suggest you don't read this story.
Relationships: Abigael Jameson-Caine/Mel Vera
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	Warmth (of Your Hands)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! 
> 
> So, I know I should be working on A First Time for Everything, but my muse for that story seems to have up and gone and I can't decide for the best first kiss scene for that fic (if you guys have any suggestions or ideas, let me know in the comments or on my Tumblr, the link to which is in the endnotes). To help myself feel a little more productive, I've come up with this little thing. It focuses on the comfort aspect of Mel/Abigael relationship, which hasn't been explored too much and which, I believe, would be a very adorable thing to see either on the show or in fanfiction (or both, really). 
> 
> Once again, I would like to warn you that there are descriptions of menstruation in the story, so continue only if you're comfortable with that. 
> 
> Now, without further ado, enjoy!

Mel was having one of the worst days she remembered having. Not even being thrown into a staircase by her sister—twice, mind you—had been as bad. First, she and Harry went out on a rescue mission that they had to run from when they got flanked by five Faction vans full of trained witch-hunters—because that was a thing now, apparently—then they had to go get Maggie who got tangled up with a group of Godric’s Pyronic demons and then her stomach started cramping six days too early, and that was all before ten in the morning. Then, she, Maggie and Harry had to go get Macy who got ambushed by renegade demons and after that, it was three more rescue missions, all of them done by noon, all of them accomplished with Mel’s stomach in painful twists and legs weak with that strange, painful tension she usually felt during her periods. She barely had the time to use a tampon, in a public restroom no less, before another emergency came.

By the time they finally managed to get home, it was five in the evening. Mel was exhausted, starved, nauseous and sore all over. She almost cried with despair when she realised there was a tall, steep staircase between her and the comfort of her bed. She opened her mouth to ask Harry to orb her up, but when she turned to him, she found him fretting over Macy who had gotten more bruised and battered than the rest of them. While he was the Whitelighter to all of them, Macy was a personal priority of his and Mel respected that even in the state she was in. Besides, she wanted her sister to be all right as soon as possible. So, she grit her teeth and climbed the stairs, reminding herself with every step that she did not need a straight, white cis-male to play her hero.

The cramping got better when she was in the shower. The cuts and bruises on her skin hurt and stung under the hot water, but she didn’t feel like a dozen knives were twisting in her gut for the moment, so she was willing to suffer through the lesser of the two pains. She didn’t want to leave the shower. The air was nice and moist, she was warm and the pain from mere moments ago was just a dull ache that felt like it was pulsing deep in her bones.

Letting out a sigh, Mel leaned her forehead against the cool tile. She couldn’t remember the last time a period had kicked her ass this much. She usually didn’t get cramps. The only reason why she usually even knew she was on her period was the tension in her knees and the uncomfortable gushing when she was using a pad. This was not something she knew how to deal with. She doubted there was a spell to take away this kind of pain and she also doubted Harry could do anything about it since it was natural and not an injury.

She was brought out of her thoughts by a knock on the door.

“I’ll be right out!” she called, ready to turn off the water.

“Don’t worry about it,” came Maggie’s voice from behind the door. “I just wanted to let you know I’m going out to get some food. I’ll be back in about an hour. And when you’re done, you should let Harry look at those bruises!”

“Yeah, sure! Thanks!”

“Also, I left a hot water bottle and some Advil on your bed. It should help.”

“Thanks!” Mel called out with a soft smile. Maggie, ever the empath, even when she didn’t have those powers.

The pills and warm bottle made the cramps recede enough so that Mel could get down, let Harry heal her injuries and get a few bites of the Thai food Maggie brought home. They didn’t talk much, all of them beyond tired from the eventful day, but they enjoyed the silent companionship and the feeling of solidarity and safety it brought.

Mel was the first one to call it a night when the first sharp pang in her belly told her the Advil wore off. She bid her sisters goodnight, although it was only quarter to eight, and climbed up the stairs.

The let-down came when she got into her room and found that there was only one pill left and that the water in the bottle had gone completely cold. It was okay, she told herself, she could just re-heat it. She could boil water in under thirty seconds; this was nothing.

Except her stomach lurched and her insides twisted painfully when she tried to use her powers. She bent over, one hand clutching at her stomach. She breathed through her clenched teeth, trying to keep the airflow steady and slow until she felt like she could stand again.

Then she looked at the bottle.

“Damnit,” she sighed. The bottle was covered in a thin layer of frost. Not what she wanted, but that was okay. She could do it.

The second trial ended with Mel’s teeth clenched in pain and the bottle hard as a block of ice. Before she could try a third time, her legs gave out under the sharpest stab of pain yet and she found herself face-down on her bed with tears in her eyes. She wasn’t even sure she could stand up to get that Advil. Maybe she could fall asleep like this and forget about the horrible day. It would be difficult with the stabbing pain and the exhaustion, but she could try. It couldn’t go worse than trying to heat the water bottle.

She didn’t know how long she lay there, contemplating her options, but it must have been long enough since she started to doze off. She only woke up when a familiar, sexy, honeyed voice with flawless, south London accent sounded through her room. “Good, you’re here. I’ve had a long day and I need some help to relax.”

Mel opened one eye to watch as one Abigael Jameson-Caine took off her leather jacket and threw it onto one of the cabinets, comfortable and sure as if she was at home in Mel’s room. Well, Mel thought, she had spent quite a lot of time there in the past month. Ever since they’d hooked up for the first time—a month and two days ago, not that she was counting—they had sex at least once every three days, and the locations varied between all possible surfaces of all rooms in Abigael’s apartment and Mel’s room in the Vera Manor. It had started as a one-time thing. They both had had an itch to scratch and neither had been in a position to search for someone else. After that, it was just convenient because they didn’t have to go on dates and talk about the weather and they didn’t have to come up with excuses for having to leave or cancel when a magical emergency popped up, and neither needed to worry about compromising things. It was just physical. They had never met up without having sex unless it was an emergency that concerned all Vera-Vaughn sisters. And yes, they talked sometimes, after the most urgent needs had been sated, but it was usually short and Mel was mostly certain it was just the side-effect of their orgasms.

When Abigael’s hazel eyes landed on her, Mel expected the witch-demon to just leave. She didn’t look flattering, Mel was sure, and Abigael only wanted one thing, which Mel right now couldn’t provide. There was no reason to stick around.

“Well, you look awful,” Abigael deadpanned.

“Thanks,” Mel huffed. She would have rolled her eyes had half of her face not been pressed into the bedsheet. “I can’t help you. I won’t for the next few days.”

Abigael let out a low hum, scanning over Mel’s body, eyes curious and concerned at the same time. “What’s wrong?”

Mel let out a groan when her gut clenched painfully again. “Cramps. And I’ve been fighting demons all day.”

Abigael’s expression remained unchanged but her eyes softened slightly. It was a look Mel had seen on her before, a few times, after she’d get more than just a bit rough and Mel would hiss in pain at a touch after they were done. It looked like concern and regret and pride all mixed into one.

“And now,” Mel continued when it didn’t seem that Abigael would react in any way, “I’m exhausted and sore and my stomach hurts, and I can’t even focus enough to warm that stupid bottle!”

With every word she said, her voice got louder and more heated, and the bottle in question only got more frozen, until it broke with a loud, ominous ‘crack’.

“Damnit!” Mel almost sobbed. She was desperate.

Without a word, Abigael walked around the room, grabbed the Advil and a bottle of water on Mel’s desk and brought it to her. Mel took it gratefully and chugged it down with haste. She almost choked on the water when Abigael took off her dress and heels, putting them away on Mel’s desk chair. Her pale skin glowed in the light of the room and Mel couldn’t help but admire the lean lines of soft curves and toned muscle. Her gut gave another twist, this one of a different nature, and her thighs clenched as her eyes raked over Abigael’s body.

The witch-demon usually basked in the attention of others, she enjoyed and craved it, and if Mel was ogling her like this in any other situation, she would no doubt put on a show and tease Mel for it later. But now, it seemed that she had one purpose in mind.

“Scoot,” Abigael ordered once her bra hit the ground.

“What?”

Huffing with impatience, Abigael rolled her eyes. “Just… scoot! Lay on your side and push your knees up. Yeah, like that. Pressure helps relieve the cramping.”

“I know that,” Mel protested, but she curled up in the middle of the bed nonetheless. A part of her wanted Abigael to keep talking. Her voice was soothing and soft, like warm honey on a cold evening and Mel wanted more of it. She admired how the witch-demon could use her voice to evoke so many different things in different people. It could instil fear, provoke anger, coax trust, demand respect. Abigael could make Mel furious, concerned or unbelievably horny, all with just a change in her voice. It was maddening in the worst and best ways imaginable and Mel couldn’t help the strong affection and longing she felt for that voice.

The mattress behind her dipped. She could feel Abigael’s presence behind her, her hairs on end in expectation of something. She found herself hoping, craving for Abigael’s touch, even though she knew those were reserved for moments of passion. Abigael had been very clear in their past interactions that their relationship did not require any physical contact outside of sex itself.

The sheet from under them disappeared in a small cloud of smoke only to reappear a moment later above them, covering them from feet to chests. Then there was a hand on her shoulder and Mel’s body tensed. She could feel Abigael shifting behind her, slow, careful movements that brought them closer and closer, until she settled, her bare chest pressed lightly into Mel’s back.

They lay there for a moment or two, quiet, still. Mel was trying to process the whole situation. Could Abigael be so touch-starved that she’d be willing to offer physical contact as comfort? That wasn’t likely, they’d only had sex two days ago, and Abigael wasn’t someone who needed much physical contact. Mel didn’t think Abigael was even looking for physical closeness and intimacy in sex, not like she was. It was all about pleasure for Abigael, desire and lust and carnal satisfaction. But what else could she expect from a demon?

Mel was brought out of her thoughts when Abigael shifted again, this time even closer. The hand moved from Mel’s shoulder, down her arm and onto her side. The other hand slipped under Mel’s other side, and together, they pulled Mel’s body flush against Abigael. Her skin tingled where it met the warm softness of Abigael’s body, sparks rushing though her in waves and heat following after like a forest fire.

“What are you doing? I told you, I can’t help you.”

“Not right now. But perhaps I can help you get rid of the cramps and after that, you can help me,” as Abigael spoke, her hands slipped under Mel’s baggy t-shirt and settled on her lower abdomen. For a while, all Mel could focus on were the thin, soft fingers gently placed over her sensitive skin, radiating warmth into her body. It felt comforting like very few things in life did, it brought her a sense of safety and belonging.

Humming, Mel shifted a little to get even closer to the demon-witch, even though the space between them was already non-existing. “Your hands are warm.”

“Well, I can shoot fire from them,” Abigael stated, but her words lacked their usual bite. It sounded like light-hearted teasing more than anything.

“Are you trying to set me on fire?” Mel asked, chuckling at the absurdity of the question. Abigael didn’t want to hurt her, she never had. Well, maybe in the beginning, but now? No. Mel trusted her.

“What purpose would that serve?” Abigael retorted with the smallest shade of annoyance in her voice.

Mel shrugged, closing her eyes. “You’d get rid of the Charmed Ones and have the whole world bare for the taking.”

“I don’t need the whole world. I’ve learnt that the demon who reaches too high falls far too low.”

“You’re not just a demon,” Mel protested, but her words were heavy, slurred. She was warm, safe in Abigael’s arms and the cramps were all but gone. The exhaustion settled in and Mel’s body sagged under its assault. She would fall asleep, she knew it, and she was so far gone that she couldn’t care much whether Abigael would leave once she realised that she wouldn’t be getting what she came for.

Abigael only hummed, voice quiet, low, sweet, like thick honey.

“Keep talking,” Mel asked.

The witch-demon chuckled. “I don’t think you’ve ever asked that of me. Quite the opposite, really.”

“ ’S just ‘coz you say annoying things. But I like your voice. ‘S comforting.”

There was silence in the room, and if Mel wasn’t half-way asleep, she might have noticed how tense it was. But as it were, she merely pushed her back further into Abigael’s chest, enjoying the warm softness of her skin and the comfort it brought.

“I don’t have any comforting stories to tell,” Abigael said flatly.

“ ’S fine. As long as they’re yours.”

With a sigh, Abigael pulled Mel’s body into herself, effectively obliterating any traces of space that might have still existed between them, moulding them together like two puzzle pieces, and she started talking. She spoke of mountains that were chained down to the earth so they could never touch the freedom of the sky and rivers that went dry before they could meet the salvation of the sea and a moon so proud it chose to hate the sun that gave it light instead of loving it freely and openly like it desired to. Mel was pretty sure there was a happy ending to all of those doomed souls, but she couldn’t fight off sleep long enough to find out.

Mel woke up in the middle of the night, curled up under the covers, warm and content. She knew Abigael was gone even without opening her eyes or reaching back to check. She could feel her absence deep in her consciousness, like a part of her was missing. And perhaps it was. She’d gotten so used to Abigael—to wanting her, pondering her, hoping for her—that she’d learnt to feel her presence like she would warmth.

Now, it was missing. As she knew it would. Abigael was not one to stick around when she knew she wouldn’t get what she wanted. Mel needed to accept that.

When she woke up again, it was to the sound of birds chirping happily in the early morning sun outside her window, and to two lean, strong hands cupping her lower belly, sending steady warmth through her whole body. The air was fresh as only morning air could be, but it carried the vanilla and cinnamon and spice musk of Abigael’s intoxicating scent. In the past month, it had only happened four times that they’d woken up together, but it was enough for Mel to be familiar with the scent and the presence of the witch-demon in the vulnerable moments of dawn.

Letting out a soft sigh, Mel pushed herself closer to the warm body behind her. The hands around her tightened in response and a warm breath ghosted over her neck, making her shiver.

“Good morning,” came the low, sensual voice, raspy with sleep, thick with south London accent.

“Mornin’” Mel replied, turning her head to get a look at Abigael’s face dishevelled from sleep. “Thank you. For staying.”

Abigael merely hummed in response, nuzzling into Mel’s neck like a sleepy cat.

Mel bit her lip, her fingers clenching around the sheet. She wanted to say or do something to thank Abigael, but she didn’t know what. But Abigael was probably waiting for some sort of repayment; that must be the only reason why she stayed. Mel was too comfortable and her muscles were too loose from sleep to even think about having sex, though, and Abigael rarely wanted anything else from her ever since they began their arrangement. Though Mel wouldn’t be able to have sex even if she were fully awake, she thought, as she could already feel the tension of her period grasping at the edges of her muscles. Fortunately, Abigael’s warm touch made the cramps go away.

A soft kiss to the nape of her neck followed by a sigh brought Mel out of her thoughts.

“I should go,” Abigael said slowly. Her voice in the morning, thick with her accent and sleep, was quickly becoming one of Mel’s favourite things. “If your sisters find me here, it would be a disaster.”

“Yeah,” Mel cringed at the image of a furious Macy her brain helpfully supplied. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Even though they both agreed that they should end their little sleepover, neither of them moved. Perhaps they were both just too tired, or too comfortable, or they didn’t want to lose the feelings they brought to each other. Mel wasn’t sure about the last one, though. she didn’t dare hope that Abigael’s motivation for keeping their little arrangement going might be emotional as well as physical. Thoughts like that would only lead to heartbreak, and she’d had enough of that in her life.

As the sun rose and the morning trickled by them slowly, the house around them came alive. The thudding of footsteps was most prominent, followed by a short, whispered fight over the bathroom. Mel listened to her sisters’ morning routines clash, as they rarely did, with a strange warmth in her chest. The feeling only got stronger when her sleepy brain realised that her sisters were being their normal, sisterly selves while she lay in bed, tangled up with Abigael, sleepy and warm and happy.

Mel imagined, for only a moment, a morning where they’d wake up just like this, except there would be some sleek, elegant decorations and necessities around Mel’s room that would just scream Abigael, and there would be designer clothes strewn around the floor and hanging in her the closet together with Mel’s less flashy clothes. They would get dressed together, teasing each other and bantering and trying to hide their laughter, and then they would go downstairs and eat breakfast with Mel’s sisters, Harry and Jordan, and nobody would be hostile or want to kill anyone.

She smiled at the image. Nothing short of an apocalypse would make Macy and Abigael drink coffee together.

The thudding footsteps got closer and closer until they stopped right at Mel’s door. Abigael tensed behind her, no doubt ready to phase-shift away at any moment.

Macy’s voice came first, dulled by the door. “Do you think we should check on her? She doesn’t sleep in like this.”

“No,” came Maggie’s soft, caring whisper. “She had a tough day. Let her sleep it off. If she doesn’t wake up in a few hours, we’ll check on her.”

The soft thudding came again, first one, followed a moment later by another, more reluctant one.

Abigael’s hands on Mel’s stomach tightened. “That was awfully close.”

“You can disappear in a second, they wouldn’t have seen you.”

“But they would have seen my lingerie.”

“The perks of doing this with a woman include being able to lie that the things she left in your room are yours.”

“That is pure mulberry silk, it’s worth more than your entire underwear drawer. You don’t own anything even resembling that.”

“Okay, first,” Mel spoke up, a frown on her face and a smirk barely kept at bay, “rude! Second, my sisters know nothing about my underwear—”

Abigael nuzzled into her neck, placing soft kisses on the sensitive skin, humming out her interest.

“—and third, I could so rock lingerie like that!”

“Indeed,” Abigael’s teeth nipped at Mel’s pulse-point. “Perhaps in white. Or deep red, that would look nice against your skin… hmm…”

“Stop fantasising, you know I can’t help your right now,” Mel chuckled, jabbing at the witch-demon’s side with her elbow playfully.

“You’ll just have to make it up to me later, then. Maybe in lingerie?”

Rolling her eyes, Mel laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“It was your idea, Little Witch, I’m just being appreciative of your genius.”

“Fine,” Mel huffed. “We’ll see about that lingerie. Later. Flattery really does get you anywhere.”

“That’s all I ask.”

A loud bang came from downstairs, followed by a quick ‘sorry!’ in Macy’s voice and Mel was once again reminded that they weren’t the only two people in the world. She sighed. The sun was getting brighter, the air warmer, the time trickled by like a forest creek over stones and roots of trees, and Mel found herself regretting that she didn’t have her old powers. She wanted to stop time, to get just one more moment like this, warm, in bed, cuddled up to Abigael in a way she’d never thought the witch-demon would allow. She took one more breath of the intoxicating scent, holding it in almost jealously.

“I really should get going,” Abigael said softly.

Mel let the breath out. She ran her fingers down Abigael’s hand on her stomach, squeezing a little before letting go completely. “I guess.”

“You know your sisters are too nosy to stay away and too judgy to accept this.”

For a brief moment, Mel thought about asking what precisely ‘this’ was, but she let it go. It was easier not to dwell on acts of gentleness and the warm feeling in her chest. ‘This’ was just physical, a search for bodily pleasures and contact when it could be found nowhere else.

“Yeah,” she said instead. “And thanks. The warmth really helped.”

“Well, I do need you to be better as soon as possible, so really, it was just an investment,” Abigael waved it off, but it lacked it usual aloofness and bite.

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” Mel turned a little to quirk an eyebrow at the witch-demon. “I’m just an investment.”

“A very good one,” Abigael grinned. She leaned in and placed a chaste, sweet kiss on Mel’s pouted lips. “Good kisser.” Another kiss. “Bloody amazing in bed.” Kiss. “Not bad to look at.” A longer kiss. “And the smartest of the Charmed Ones.” An even longer kiss.

Mel rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. “Flatterer.”

“You disagree?”

“No. Now go, I need to show my sisters that I’m alive.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me now?” Abigael asked, eyebrow quirked and a serious expression on her face. She would look intimidating if Mel didn’t see the way the corners of her mouths twitched with the suppressed smirk and the sparks of mischief that danced in those beautiful, hazel eyes.

Mel opened her mouth to respond, but she stopped herself. The mischief in Abigael’s eyes softened slowly and her expression moulded into a soft one, with eyes that called for attention and lips that looked plump and kissable. Mel turned to face her fully, her hands came up to gently cup Abigael’s face, and she connected their lips with as much passion as she dared, considering they didn’t have the time to sate Abigael’s needs. Mouths opened almost instantly and tongues met in a duel of mixed emotions that neither of them was brave enough to name just yet.

They parted, gasping for air, with heavy eyes and the want to just stay in the moment shining in their eyes.

“Do you really want me to leave? That kiss says otherwise,” Abigael grinned.

“I don’t,” Mel admitted, staring into those devilish hazel eyes. Another bang came from the kitchen, followed by a loud ‘sorry’ and Harry’s rambling about breakfast and incompetence. Mel sighed. “But my sisters would kill you, and me, if they found us together.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Abigael smirked that cocky, confident smirk of hers that never failed to get Mel’s blood boiling with irritation and desire.

“I wouldn’t. Not get your ass to that demony business of yours that you won’t tell me about before I turn you into a popsicle!”

Still grinning, Abigael leaned in for a short kiss before standing up. The sheet lay crumpled on the bed where she left it and she stood there, naked save for a lacy, black thong, but Abigael paid it no mind. She moved around the room to collect her clothes, confident and comfortable. Mel loved reaping the benefits of Abigael’s confidence. Be it skimpy outfits, lingerie that left nothing to the imagination or unobscured, pale skin, Mel always enjoyed looking. Abigael had, of course, picked up on that some time ago and she never missed an opportunity to let Mel see her.

Even now, clad only in her black thong and a confident smirk, she made a show of swaying her hips as she walked around the room, completely unnecessarily, Mel noticed, to get dressed. She made a show of putting her bra and dress on, teasing Mel almost as much as she would taking the clothes off.

“I’ll find you later,” Abigael whispered, leaning down to steal one more, passionate kiss. “Little Witch.”

With that, she hooked her fingers on the straps of her high-heels and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

Mel closed her eyes, enjoying the silence and traces of Abigael’s enticing scent all around her. When she opened them again, ready to get out of bed while the effects of the warmth Abigael had provided were still working, she noticed two new packs of Advil and a new hot water bottle sitting comfortably on her desk.

She smiled. The day was already shaping up to be considerably better than the one before.

**Author's Note:**

> That's all from me! I hope you liked the story! If you did, let me know in the comments below or come talk to me on my [Tumblr](https://justalittlewritingnerd.tumblr.com/)! There aren't many posts there, but I'll happily dm with anyone who feels like talking! Thank you for reading!
> 
> And yes, when Mel woke up alone in the night, Abigael was out getting her not-girlfriend things to make her feel better, but it's not because she likes Mel or anything... 
> 
> I hate you all, hoomans!


End file.
